One Bad Choice (the beginning of forever)
by Dark Akuma Hunter
Summary: After quitting her job at the Ministry, Hermione re-immerses herself in the muggle world. She finds herself attending a job interview for the Magnus Institute. She should have turned it down.


**A/N:** This is just a dumb little thing that flitted through my head the other day, and since I don't usually write HP stories that _aren't_ about Harry, and I was certain it wouldn't stretch beyond a small one-shot (because while I may enjoy MAG I have basically no idea what's going on most of the time) I decided to push on and see it through, because why not?

 **One Bad Choice (the beginning of forever)**

The Magnus Institute was only one of dozens of places, from multiple career paths, that Hermione had sent resumes and job applications to. It had been, at the same time, the place she thought would most benefit from her skill-set, and one of the places she least expected to hear back from.

When she'd gotten fed up with working for the Ministry, and fed up of their technologically backwards and still startlingly stagnant society, her parents had welcomed her back to the muggle world with open arms. Unsure if it was just a vacation to get her head on straight, or something more permanent, they'd been happy to let her freeload off of them at home – they hadn't seen much of each other since she rescued them from Australia and gave them their memories back – but Hermione hadn't been satisfied with that. Getting a job was the least she should do – she was in her thirties damn it – lest she start to stagnate herself.

And so her job-hunt had, somewhat surprisingly, led her to an interview at the oft whispered about – and even more often disdained – Magnus Institute.

Being an archival assistant was certainly one of the more interesting positions she'd applied for – she'd even gone so far as to apply at supermarkets and malls, for at the moment any job would've done – but she had to admit she'd heard a lot of conflicting chatter about the Institute.

Of course, at first she simply hadn't – heard anything, that is. She'd had no idea it even existed. People didn't tend to talk about it unless they'd been involved with it somehow, even just tangentially, so until Hermione overhead someone muttering about it she'd been blissfully unaware. But that one whisper had caught her attention, piqued her interest, and so she sought it out herself.

Now she was here, at the Institute itself, Hermione felt a little… uncertain.

There was nothing off-putting about the building or the area, and she couldn't feel any hints of magical power, but it was like the hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end.

But, she told herself, she was a grown woman, a fully capable witch, and also well-versed in physical self-defence, so if the tickle turned out to be something more sinister than nerves she was well able to protect herself.

So, determined, she continued on inside.

 **oOoOo**

Hermione's interview, it turned out, was with the head of the Institute himself.

"This is just a formality," he said, after they exchanged pleasantries and Hermione had seated herself. "I think you'll fit in quite nicely here."

"Thank you?"

Hermione wasn't quite sure what to do with that. This was her first personal contact with the Institute – she hadn't even spoken to anyone over the phone, it had all been email up to this point – so how could he be so certain? She hadn't even thought there were any current job openings; she'd only applied out of curiosity.

"I'm sure working in the archives will be a step down – or at the very least a broad leap sideways – from your previous work, but I think your personal experiences will be a fascinating addition to our team."

Let it never be said that Hermione Granger was unintelligent.

To most people, her resume would be vague and confusing. Although she'd obtained her high school credentials after the war, she'd never as much as been _enlisted_ in a high school, and her previous work experience stated only a non-functional – but technically existing – sector of the British Government that could be used in the muggle world to talk about work done for the Ministry of Magic. Only people given clearance to use the code knew what it really meant.

That he was implying he knew anything at all about her background was more than a little alarming.

"Mr Bouchard?"

Elias simply smiled indulgently at her across the desk, and Hermione suddenly had the unsettling feeling that even if there was _no way_ Elias Bouchard could be authorised to have access to the knowledge, he knew exactly what the stupid government code on her resume truly represented.

"You start work on Monday," Elias said, jovially but with a surprising note of finality, as he slid her resume into a manila folder and set it aside.

Hermione could have protested, could have stormed out the door and never returned, but now she was even _more_ curious.

What did he know? _How_ did he know it? What did he think she would learn here, or that he would learn from her?

She could have said no, but her thirst for knowledge, for understanding, meant that come Monday morning she found herself once more stepping into the Institute, this time with a job.

 **oOoOo**

Barely three weeks after starting her new job at the Institute a man had been found dead in the archives, and the Head Archivist had vanished, wanted – potentially – for his murder.

Having heard mutterings about Gertrude during those three weeks, and having looked into it herself, Hermione found herself asking Elias, almost against her better judgment, if the mortality rate at the Institute was usually so high.

Elias simply smiled at her, that same unsettling, knowing smile from her interview.

It was only then, between Martin and Tim's arguments, and the general doom and gloom of the archives in the aftermath, that Hermione began to feel like perhaps she'd finally made a mistake that she couldn't turn back from.


End file.
